


Thou Shalt Have No Other Gods Before Me

by glitterburn (orphan_account)



Category: Super Junior-M
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-06
Updated: 2012-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-30 17:12:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/glitterburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boundaries keep you safe. They also keep you trapped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thou Shalt Have No Other Gods Before Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for lixia84’s prompts ‘denial, boundaries, leader’ for Porn Battle XIII.

The empty wine bottle spins and spins, glimmering beneath the lights of the dorm room, until finally it comes to rest pointing at Siwon. 

Donghae gives a crow of laughter. “Bro, truth or dare?”

Siwon shrugs. “Truth.”

“Excellent!” Donghae is a little the worse for wear as he sits sprawled on the floor, his legs splayed out in front of him and five empty beer cans half crushed between his thighs. He points an unsteady finger in Siwon’s direction. He’s a little off, but considering how fast he drank that beer, maybe he can be forgiven. “Wait,” he says, “lemme think.”

Siwon laughs. Donghae is funny when he’s drunk. He’s funnier drunk than when he’s sober and trying to be funny, but then Siwon guesses most people are like that. He’s pleasantly buzzed himself, and Hyukjae is drunk and sleepy enough to have curled into Sungmin’s lap, his head on Sungmin’s thigh, Sungmin’s fingers threaded through Hyukjae’s hair in a casual, protective gesture. Kyuhyun is off somewhere on the phone to Jongwoon, and Henry is stretched out on the floor, acting as a kind of human cushion for Ryeowook’s feet.

The only one who isn’t drunk is Zhou Mi. He’ll let himself get a little tipsy, but nothing more, “because I’m the leader, I have to be responsible,” and Siwon is aware that Zhou Mi takes that responsibility too seriously. He’s sitting next to Siwon, long legs folded up, his arms hugged around his knees. He looks pensive, and whenever Siwon glances at him, Zhou Mi drops his gaze.

Siwon knows why. It’s because they’re going home tomorrow, all of them going back to Seoul with the exception of him and Donghae. They have to stay a few more weeks to finish up the filming of _Skip Beat_. They have to stay, and Zhou Mi is leaving, and the problem is that they haven’t talked about what’s been happening between them.

“Got it!” Donghae tries to snap his fingers. Fails. Tries again. Gives up. “Tell the truth,” he says, pointing at Siwon again, “are you or are you not fucking Zhou Mi?”

Sungmin draws in his breath. A sudden, charged silence covers the room. The smile dries on Siwon’s face. Beside him, Zhou Mi has gone tense.

Donghae’s stupid drunken grin begins to waver.

Siwon knows he has to answer before his lack of response gives him away. He laughs. The first sound that emerges is horrible and cracked. It’s easier next time. He roars with laughter, thumps the floor with his hand, even turns to Zhou Mi as if inviting him to share the joke.

Zhou Mi is looking at him, expression blank. “Answer the question, Shi Yuan.”

“A stupid question.” Siwon faces Donghae again. “No. No way. Bro, are you kidding me? Why would I sleep with Zhou Mi? I’m not—I’m not like... that.”

Ryeowook takes his feet from Henry’s chest and sits forward on the sofa. “Not like what?”

Siwon stares at him, suddenly defensive. “I’m not gay, all right? You know I’m not. I’m not gay and I’m not fucking Zhou Mi.”

“That’s enough.” Zhou Mi unfolds himself to his full height so fast he almost unbalances. “Clean this up. We have to go to the airport early tomorrow.”

He leaves the room, but instead of lessening the tension, the atmosphere seems to thicken. Siwon realises that everyone is staring at him.

“Dude,” says Henry, “you are so in denial.”

Siwon glares at him, glares at them all. He wants to argue, but what would be the point? He stands up. “I’m going to read the script. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Go and apologise,” Sungmin says, very softly.

Siwon hesitates. “Goodnight.” He heads into the corridor, aware of the continuing silence left in his wake. His room is in the next dorm over. The best thing would be for him to go there and call Zhou Mi, keep some distance between them, but he’s not that much of a bastard. He’s Super Junior’s gentleman, after all, and the least he can do is say he’s sorry.

He knocks on Zhou Mi’s door. Quietly, so as not to alert anyone else who may be listening. He waits, and then Zhou Mi opens the door and stands there staring at him, beautiful and angry and above all, hurt. 

He steps back, allows Siwon to enter the room. Siwon’s gaze skims the familiar space, now empty of almost everything that made it a temporary home. Just a few toiletries on the bedside table, just a small pile of neatly folded clothes on the chair. Everything else is packed away in the smart set of luggage. Siwon looks at the bed, notices that Zhou Mi hasn’t laid out his satin pyjamas the way he usually does. Maybe he planned on sleeping naked tonight. The thought makes Siwon’s throat tighten.

He swings around, one hand outstretched in apology. “I was out of line just now. I’m sorry.”

Zhou Mi’s eyes flash. “Just now?”

“Well... yes.” Siwon lets his hand fall. He tilts his head, summons a smile. “I’m sorry. Truly.”

Zhou Mi hugs his arms against his body as if he’s cold. He doesn’t take his gaze from Siwon, and it’s a fierce, intense gaze, one that makes Siwon wish he was a little more sober. “You always do this,” Zhou Mi says. “You always find a way to deny me and I always hope...”

The breath vanishes from Siwon’s lungs. He doesn’t want to talk about this. Not now. Not ever. He’s a hypocrite, an awful, disgusting hypocrite. He knows it, yet the lies still come so easily. “I don’t deny you. We’re friends.”

“Do you make a habit of fucking your friends?”

He can’t answer that.

“So it’s just me you’re fucking.” Zhou Mi loosens his arms, puts his hands on his hips and stands tall. Tension twists, digs in. “Answer me, Shi Yuan. No one else can hear. It’s just you and me, just like Wednesday night, and the night before that, and three nights before that—”

“Stop.” Siwon hears the hitch in his voice. “Mi, don’t say it.” 

“Don’t say what?” Zhou Mi’s anger is a living thing, a flame, bright and consuming. “I keep a diary, you know. Li Xu is so conscientious about keeping a diary in Korean and a diary in Chinese, so I decided to do the same thing. You’re in there, Yuan. You’re in there so I’ll remember how happy you made me.”

“Happy?” Siwon looks up, sees the glimmer of furious tears in Zhou Mi’s eyes.

Zhou Mi dismisses Siwon’s question with a violent gesture. “I thought I made you happy, too. I thought that was why you kept coming to me. How could I say no? How could I deny you anything?”

A hot tide of shame rises in Siwon. He hates hurting people, hates disappointing them. He didn’t think it would get this far. He didn’t think Zhou Mi would get hurt. He didn’t think anyone would find out. Hell, he just didn’t _think_. No, he just took, and Zhou Mi gave, and still it wasn’t enough, it’s never been enough, and the honest truth is that he’s scared, he’s fucking terrified, because if he lets it out, if he admits even the smallest part of what he’s feeling, he’s damning himself. 

God hates the sin but loves the sinner, isn’t that what the Pastor says? Surely lying with the tongue is a lesser sin than lying with another man. Siwon doesn’t know. It’s something he can question, but it’s not something he can ever ask about.

“Mimi,” he says, but has no idea what to say, how to make this right. It’ll never be right. He should never have started this. He wishes he could walk away, but what he feels for Zhou Mi is too strong to ignore, even if he doesn’t understand it. 

In truth he doesn’t want to understand it. This wasn't a rational decision. It was made purely on instinct, and Zhou Mi feels so good in his arms, feels so fucking good pressed up against him, needy and hot and demanding. Siwon wants him all the time, finds himself drifting off into daydreams during filming, remembering the dark, husky quality of Zhou Mi’s voice when they’re joined, the sound of it like shrouds of heavy black silk muffling and tightening. Siwon adores Zhou Mi’s voice, adores him even when he’s frantic and trying too hard, adores him _because_ he gets frantic and tries too hard, and oh God, he adores Zhou Mi’s stupid, brittle confidence and his boundless optimism, and he adores it when Zhou Mi is on top of him and holding onto his hips, holding him down, he adores Zhou Mi’s laughter and the way he gets that teasing look in his eyes, and—

And he’s going to go to Hell for what they do together. Straight to Hell, where he’ll burn and burn, and the Pastor will know, and his parents, his whole family, and the shame of it, the disappointment, it’ll crucify him.

The conflict must show on his face. Zhou Mi’s expression softens, but his voice remains hard. “I’ve never asked anything of you. Never made demands. I never wanted us to hold hands in public and skip through fields and get married and adopt cute orphans. I just wanted you to treat me with some sort of respect.”

“I do,” Siwon says. “I do. You’re the leader.”

“No, I’m not!”

The denial hangs between them, as fragile as spun sugar.

Just as Siwon doesn’t think he can take it anymore, Zhou Mi sits on the end of the bed, defeat weighting down his shoulders, his fox-red hair tumbling into his eyes. “I’m not the leader,” he says, a brittle smile on his lips. “I just speak Mandarin better than the rest of you.”

“That’s not true,” Siwon says, then winces because, duh, of course Zhou Mi speaks Mandarin better than the rest of them; better than Han Geng, too, if they’re being brutally honest. “Of course you’re the leader.”

Zhou Mi shakes his head, the gesture sharp and defiant.

“You are.” Siwon takes a breath, takes a step closer, summoning courage. “A good leader always knows when to respect boundaries—and when to push them.”

Zhou Mi looks up. Looks at him, really looks at him. The surprise in his eyes is fleeting. “Yuan, are you asking...”

Siwon wants to bolt, wants to flee to the safety of his room and lock the door and forget they ever started this conversation, forget that Donghae ever asked that question. He fights back the urge. He has to do this. Needs to do it. For Zhou Mi. For himself. 

He can’t say it, though. He waits in silence and hopes that Zhou Mi understands.

Zhou Mi gets up from the bed and comes towards him, expression unreadable now. He fits his hand to the side of Siwon’s face, leans in and kisses him. 

He’s still angry. Siwon can feel it in his kisses, through the tension in Zhou Mi’s lips. It’s almost as if Siwon can taste Zhou Mi’s anger, and the thought excites him. Siwon makes a sound low in his throat and pushes closer, opening his mouth. He’s greedy, he’s always been greedy for kisses, but Zhou Mi denies him, draws away to brush his lips over Siwon’s cheek, to nuzzle against his ear, to whisper, “Yuan, Shi Yuan,” like it’s a benediction.

Siwon reaches for him, pulls him back. He doesn’t want to hear his name. He wants to forget who he is. He wants to become Zhou Mi’s toy, even if just for tonight. He wants to be led into this, taken through this. He wants the world to stop turning so he doesn’t have to deal with guilt and conflict and unsatisfactory compromise.

Zhou Mi kisses him again, takes up the control that Siwon relinquishes. They edge together, urgent and hot, and Siwon trembles when they touch. He stops thinking, lets himself just feel, and languor steals in at his absence of will.

They lie on the bed, stretch out and grasp hungrily at one another. Zhou Mi keeps on kissing him, fucking Siwon’s mouth with his tongue, and Siwon takes handfuls of Zhou Mi’s hair and holds him into the embrace, desperate for more, for everything.

They break free, undress in haste, and realign, naked and yearning. Zhou Mi reaches for the bedside drawer then stops, utters a soft curse.

Siwon realises. Everything’s packed: the lube, the condoms, everything. He doesn’t care. He lifts his hips. “It’s okay. I want it. I trust you.”

“You _trust_ me?” Zhou Mi stares at him, and Siwon almost breaks under the weight of his gaze. He’s trusted a lot of people, some more than others, but none like this. The knowledge is shattering. He’s putting his whole being into Zhou Mi’s hands and trusting that he won’t be hurt.

“Yes,” Siwon says, touching his fingers to Zhou Mi’s face. “God, yes, I trust you.”

It’s uncomfortable at first when Zhou Mi enters him with only saliva to slick the way. It’s strange and exciting and while it doesn’t feel wrong, exactly, neither does it feel right. Maybe this is what Purgatory is like, an awkward limbo of grey sensation that’s neither one thing nor the other. Siwon doesn’t want religious thoughts to blight this experience, so he lifts his head from the pillow and kisses Zhou Mi, kisses him between little panted breaths as Zhou Mi pushes deeper and deeper.

“Tell me if it hurts, tell me to stop,” Zhou Mi says, balancing his weight through his arms, a look of such concentration on his face that Siwon adores him all the more.

“It doesn’t hurt. Don’t stop.” Siwon rocks up against him, an instinctive reaction more than a considered response, and his body opens up in acceptance and Zhou Mi slides all the way in until their bodies lie flush against one another.

Siwon holds onto him, grips tight with arms and legs and with his hole flexing around Zhou Mi’s cock. “God,” he says, the word choked. “Oh God. Mimi.”

Zhou Mi kisses his forehead, his eyelids, the tip of his nose. His breath is warm and erratic. He kisses Siwon’s open mouth, whispers against his lips, “I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t, I can’t.”

“Not hurting,” Siwon breathes back. “Just—move. Please, move. Fuck me.” 

Zhou Mi draws back, slow, slower, then drives back in. Siwon yelps, a stupid sound, and hears Zhou Mi chuckle against his neck. “Don’t,” Siwon begs. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not.” Zhou Mi’s voice is as rich as sun-warmed caramel. “I’m laughing with you, YuanYuan. You make me happy, see?”

“Yes,” says Siwon, “yes, yes—” and he does see, he understands it now, and it’s not as terrifying as he thought; it’s okay to transgress, it’s okay to overreach, it’s okay to love, it’s all okay.

He surrenders to Zhou Mi, trusts in him, follows his lead. Pleasure flares from the discomfort, joy unfurls from deep inside, and he lets go, lifts and lifts and keeps his mouth close enough for kisses, close enough to catch every gasp and endearment that tumbles from Zhou Mi’s lips, close enough that they can fall together, hungry and urgent and joined as one.

“You,” Siwon says afterwards, still shaking, overwhelmed. “You, Mimi. You are the leader. Never doubt that.”

Zhou Mi kisses him, hard and passionate.

Hell can wait.


End file.
